


There’s Power in the Blood

by RichardYves



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Blood, DDDNE, Gen, Gore, Torture, just a regular guy makin a regular cake!!!, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardYves/pseuds/RichardYves
Summary: Priest makes a cake. Just a 3am drabble.
Kudos: 5





	There’s Power in the Blood

The pre-dawn air is crisp inside - the house set to a perfect 75° - the walls are painted a soft off-white and the floors are a deep cherry oak. The yard sits, pristine with many flowers blooming in front and vegetables growing nicely in back. Sitting in the middle of suburbia, it seems, for all intents and purposes, like a very nice place to live.

As the sun peeks over the horizon, Osmund Priest whistles as he makes his way to the large composters sitting at the edge of the vegetable garden to give it the daily rotations. He opens the door to one, pouring the contents of a black trashbag into the chamber before re-locking it and cranking the lever that turns the composting barrel like a cement mixer. He moves onto each one, checking the contents inside. At the last one he turns the barrel door down and positions a wheelbarrow underneath. This load is ready to be pulverised. 

The composter breaks down the flesh and the blood is absorbed into the soil, but the bones still remain whole. These, he knows, must be further pulverised so that the dearest darlings who come by his garden dont worry their little heads off. He chuckles. His fertilisers are the best in the county - his vegetables always bringing in prizes at the county fairs. They’re just jealous those old cows. It’s not his fault that they haven’t thought to use humans after all. 

He makes his way to the chicken coops next. He gathers their daily eggs before letting them loose into their small run where they hunt for bugs in the dirt. The chickens are his favourite. They give him fresh eggs and they eat anything. He refills their water trough and scatters feed across the dirt before moving on. 

After finishing up in the outside he comes back inside, placing the eggs on the counter and showering quickly before setting about making a cake. He has to hurry - the cake is to be brought into work later today. Dearest Ken is having a birthday and as the smartest man on the team - besides himself of course - he deserves a very nice cake. Pound cake with a fresh berry compote sounds lovely. 

Now having decided what to make, he heads back outside, grabbing a basket for the berries. The summer sun has now fully risen and the light reflects off of the evaporating dew on the berry bushes. It’s a beautiful morning. He picks fresh strawberries and blue berries before heading on to the raspberry vines. As he crouches and reaches in, he is cut by one of the thorns. He stares transfixed as the blood wells on his finger and slips down his hand before delicately falling onto the leaves of vine. He giggles, delighted. What a lovely start to the day. 

As he enters the kitchen, he wraps a black apron around himself, sets the oven to preheat, and gathers the other ingredients for the cake. The dry ingredients are mixed and set aside before he begins to mix the wet ingredients in a separate bowl. 

Priest hums and whistles jauntily as he cooks. He turns, opening the fridge and reaching in to grab the milk. As he reaches his hand into the fridge, a soft whimper sounds. There is a man gagged and bound in the fridge. Priest smiles gently and caresses the mans face. “ _Not yet lovely.”_ He carefully plucks the carton from the top shelf and closes the fridge again. As he finishes combining wet and dry ingredients the oven dings. Right on time. Just like always. 

He croons a southern hymn as he opens the oven door revealing another bound figure. This ones unseeing eyes are wide with pain already. The oven has been preheating for a while now and he is covered in burns, his skin sloughing off. Priest tuts. That just wont do. He cant have anything less than the perfect cake after all. He puts on his oven mitts and hauls the man out - throwing him roughly onto the floor. He delicately replaces the oven rack and sets the cake on top before re-closing the oven. He grins as he looks down at the half dead thing on the kitchen floor. It will be a little while before he has to start the compote. He has some time. The cake needs to cook as well as cool. _Oh yes_ , he thinks, _I have plenty of time._

As Priest cooks the compote the smell of sugary fruit and the scent of the cake in the oven work to cover the scent of burning flesh which had previously permeated the space. The fruit and sugar mixture bubbles happily as the fruits caramelise. He takes the pan off of the heat before opening the fridge and tilting the pan just slightly. He giggles as the hot, hot sugar mixture falls onto the man in the fridge - the contrast between the cold and the heat so exquisite he imagines. He licks his lips as the man within the fridge writhes beneath him, the smell of acrid flesh once more entering the atmosphere. 

Priest leans in, swiping the compote off of now burnt flesh - bringing it to his mouth and licking. “Ah. Perfect.” He pats the man on the head before closing the fridge door again. The cake has cooled now and sits on the serving plate. He drizzles the fruit compote over the top. Yes. It is the perfect cake for a perfect morning. 


End file.
